NaNoWriMo MixBox
by Illucia
Summary: What better way of try to get back into the groove of writing than taking a part in the Nanowrimo November madness. I'll upload these bunnies/snippets/short stories as the ideas get written out. Remember, not edited! These are all Harry centric stories, there might be few crossovers, maybe some hints of slash, maybe even some longer stories. First: Harry/Tom beginning.
1. Chapter 1 Evil Is As Evil Does

Ch.1 Evil Is as Evil does

"Are you sure Potter will take care of this?" The un-named man muttered while having a bruising grip on Tom's shoulder. All the men had gotten more quiet the further along their group walked in this unnaturally pristine, middle class road. They shuffled, whispered and muttered.

The second man, also dressed in a black robe snorted. "Well, what else do you think he'd do? He has no choice. Besides, Potter hates it."

"But Potter is too nice… Couldn't someone else –"

"Who?" The second one suddenly seemed ready to practically climb over the one who had asked. "Tell me who? An Auror? Who can you be sure on? Purebloods would run around the house and scream in horror when they realize who the boy is." He hissed.

Tom was sure the second man was nodding towards him and that made him angry. He was not a thing! He was not it! And he could hear them perfectly well!

He didn't totally understand himself right now but he felt as if he was around seven years old, yet he remembered seeing himself in a mirror as an adult. A very scary adult. Just the kind of adult he now would like to be. Then _he_ could be the one pushing others around and no one would be able to hurt him like this. He could hit them. These men would be so scared that they would wet their pants and he would be happy.

o

Tom only remembered waking up on a cold stone floor. He remembered hearing whispers. Several someones had been whispering near him. He had been pretty sure he was supposed to be at the orphanage but the air had been different, it was practically humming around him with nervous energy. He might've been young but he had never yet been stupid. The only moment in the orphanage when it was that quiet was when Mrs Cole's husband was visiting, while drunk. Then you couldn't really know when he would lose his temper. Someone always ended up with red, bleeding lashes…

He was confused. His head was hurting. He wanted to shout at someone, order everyone to be quiet but he was small and older boys liked to kick the younger ones when given reason. When he finally managed a look around, it became very clear that something odd had happened.

He was in a huge room with six grownups. They were all men, as far as he could tell but they were wearing black, thick dresses. Three of them had white masks on. They were obviously nervous, twitching, looking around. When they noticed he had woken up, two actually jumped backwards a step. Tom couldn't help but smile. They were weak.

In the days that followed, it became clear to him that he really, truly hated these men. He would get revenge. He had no clear memory of what had happened before he woke up but luckily the men were stupid as well incompetent and talked around him enough for him to piece things together. Apparently these backstabbers had been his allies and he had been all grown up, even though he didn't remember it anymore. The men had betrayed him and attacked him, managing to change him into a child. Thinking he would not be as dangerous.

Although Tom was sure that had not been the original purpose. The men had tried to kill him! They certainly tried it now but something in their arms caused them immense pain every time. Four of them had hit him with a bright light, Tom suspected magic. The men had wands. Fifth man's spell he had managed to duck and the sixth was too nervous to even try one. That one was the weakest, the rest, at least incompetent.

Then the men had talked right next to him, going through different ways they could kill him. Tom didn't know enough to talk them out of it, which was why he had grabbed a knife from the nearby table, sneaked behind them and struck. Unfortunately the next time he saw the wounded man, there had been no wound left. Magic again. After that the men had kept their distance and tried to tie him up with ropes. Attacking them so hastily had not been his best decision, but at least the men kept getting more and more nervous around him. Soon one of them would slip and then he could make them do what he wanted. He had used that strategy in the orphanage a lot.

On the third day, only two of the men had shown up with three new ones. The new ones were something called muggles. Tom didn't see the difference. They were all like Mrs. Cole's husband. Stupid but brutal. The two men in black had tried to command the muggle men to hit Tom, but luckily that had not worked either. The two had keeled over moaning in pain.

Tom thought all the adults were idiots.

After trying other equally ineffective stunts, the men had finally brought him here. A really boring looking neighborhood. Tom was pondering if he should shout for help but people passed by them without even glimpsing at him. There was some sort of magic in play again, making people ignore their party.

In any case, he was feeling confused and angry. Something inside him was ready to burst. He wanted to shout at the traitors, hurt them so badly but he was also afraid. The men were adults, three times his size and even though Tom himself could do some magic, he couldn't do it like the adults could. He realized he was only a little boy, which was odd. He had never thought himself this helpless.

Last days had been painful. He had not gotten any food, so he felt weak. Mrs. Cole was already lazy and careless, forgetting to feed the children in the orphanage, so none of the children were ever full. And now, without any reason, these men had kidnapped him and Tom did not have any idea why. What they wanted from him? And there was no one he knew who could save him. He just knew they wanted him dead and that was not acceptable.

o

The man next to him waved his magic wand and out of nothing came a knife. The man poked Tom with it but not really hard. Tom refused to bend and grinned at the man when he noticed the small flinch. Apparently that much was enough to cause the man some reflected pain. Good.

"Open the gate, kid. Then walk to the front door, knock and ask for Harry Potter. You'll know him when you see him. He's got black hair, funny scar on his forehead and he's not yet an adult."

"´e's sixteen."

"No, he's seventeen!" The third man corrected. "Didn't you see the witch weakly articl…"

The first man poked the blabbing man with the knife he still had. "What the devil! Read the gossip magazines on your own time and drool after Potter later. Do you really think Potter wouldn't like to see you at the end of his wand?"

The fourth man snorted. "And you're not interested? In Potter's wand?"

The first growled, "QUIET." And pushed Tom onwards. "Get going!"

Tom leaned on the white fence and looked at the house in front of him. He knew just what kind of cruel children lived in a houses like this. They threw stones at the Orphanage windows while going to school and if they spotted you, they usually threw stones at the children as well. But what other options he had? For four days now he had been afraid the stooges would actually find a way to harm him without consequences. Maybe he could run away, but the men could probably simply magic him back.

This Harry Potter sounded like a person who could make noise about loitering adults and poorly dressed, dirty children and maybe Tom would have time to sneak away. Potter didn't sound like he was a friend to his jailers but what if Potter was, and was just waiting there with another knife for him. Maybe Potter didn't have anything to hold him back and would actually succeed?

Tom felt another poke in his back but noticed that for some reason the man was reaching. Obviously there was some sort of safety line they couldn't cross. It made Tom's choice easier. Towards the house it was before the six bastards began sacrificing each other in order to hurt him. Even if whatever it was kept that him safe would kill the men immediately after attacking him, it was no good if they first managed to kill him.

So Tom left the gate behind him and walked slowly towards the front door. He had never received a warm welcome in these sort of places. But he was not a coward and as there was only one way forward, that would be it. There was no reason to hesitate.

knock, knock

-o-

KNOCK, KNOCK

Harry frowned and looked towards the main door. When the knocking stubbornly continued, he picked up a towel and dried his hands.

"Always in the middle of washing…" He muttered and strode into the hallway. "And there's a doorbell. Probably Mrs. Patters again," he sighed and stopped. If there was a nosier gossiper in the world than his aunt, then it was Mrs. Patters. He could easily imagine the lady knocking on the door just because it might not be heard and she would have an excuse to peek through the windows, again. He never understood how the minds of the women living in Privet Drive worked. Neither did he want to.

He took a deep breath and took the last step towards the door and hummed. "I'm in the zone, I'm in the zone," he had picked the mantra from a tv-series. It was all about breathing right. He grinned. It was not like the nosy women saw any further than their own noses. Which was exactly what they wanted to see.

He opened the door.

He looked down and had a hard time comprehending this day. He looked back up and followed the pathway all the way to the fence. If the situation had been less serious, he would've laughed. Only few would've understood the joke. But what an earth was a group of Death Eaters doing, in black robes on one of the year's hottest days, in the middle of Privet Drive.

He looked down and thought the answer was right in front of him. He didn't get it, yet, but it would come.

"Why me? Why is it always me?" He muttered and kneeled.

A little boy stood in front of him frowning. The boy stood stiff as a plank. Harry had seen this stance before. Last time it was on Mark Evans while Dudley was walking on the other side of the road.

Cautiously Harry decided not to bring out his wand. Because there was just some things you couldn't pretend. The little boy in front of him was not pretending.

"Hey Tom… You are Tom, aren't you?" Harry asked, pretty sure the boy was not Voldemort in disguise. Nothing he knew of the man hinted that Voldemort could pull off a stunt like this. If nothing else, Harry could say he knew the man a little. On the other hand, Harry knew this boy in front of him was most assuredly Tom Riddle.

The boy was judging him. Harry figured he must be even younger than when Dumbledore first arrived at the orphanage. The boy had bruises, a lot of bruises, right under his loose shirt. He also spotted brown stains and parts of the shirt were rubbed broken. So most likely it was blood. Also the boy looked like it had been a while since he last had eaten something.

Most importantly there was not a whiff of Voldemort in him. And if Harry's magic could do one thing, it was to recognize Dark Lord.

The moment stretched but eventually the boy nodded. Harry caught a glimpse of curiosity and smiled. "And are those your escorts?" He nodded towards the Death Eaters loitering on the street.

The boy didn't really nod as much as he shrugged. Harry could feel insecurity in waves.

"Alright. How about we go and ask them what they want?"

Tom didn't answer him, just stared at his shoes. Harry couldn't blame the kid, he would've been scared himself. He understood but couldn't turn his back on the boy. Besides, he was curious as well. A character trait he was trying to get rid of.

Harry stood up. "Take my hand and let's go together. They can't cross the fence."

Tom didn't move. Just when Harry's hand was faltering, the little boy reached for him. The hand was so small.

Harry stopped a few feet before the fence and kept Tom a little behind. He felt that he was going to witness yet another example how big of an idiots the Death Eaters were. Trelawney would love this moment. So many ways to die.

´Harry Potter and his inner eye, ´ Trelawney would mutter. ´I just knew it! ´

Harry shook his head and tried to lose the image. Idiots or not, they could be dangerous.

He coughed even though there was no need for him to gather everyone's attention. He already had it. "Could someone explain?" He lifted an eyebrow.

The Death Eaters continued to twirl around nervously.

Harry tilted his head, "Is this some whim again? Like visiting the Ministry in the middle of the night and prance around?"

Apparently one of the idiots was smart enough to know when he was mocked. He took a step forward, raising his wand, "Are you stupid, Potter?"

Harry continued to stare at them, not being impressed. Hopefully his disbelief got through.

A second Death Eater joined his mate and pointed at Tom. "That's the Dark Lord! Get ´im!" As if Harry was a dog.

Harry wanted to shout ´whoof´ but decided to hold it. He looked at Tom. The boy was still holding his hand stiffly, waiting.

Harry felt his hero complex rise and sighed. He was so going to regret this.

"Let me guess, somehow you managed to turn the Dark Lord into an eight year old boy and then decided to drop him at my door?"

"Ha!" One the Death Eeaters shouted and then noticed the others were staring. He turned his head down and pulled his hood lower. "I said he would figure it out," the man muttered almost too quiet to hear.

The second Death Eater smacked him. The first one didn't look pleased either. Or at least as much as one could tell with the mask on.

"Bravo Potter," the leader said. "You got it. And because your light side hasn't managed to do the job, we decided to help. Kill the kid and you kill the Dark Lord."

"And why haven't you done the deed?" Harry asked and added, "Or is killing Voldemort off just. not. that. easy?"

The leader growled. Apparently he had some serious anger management issues. That's what you got when you played with dark magic all day long.

"We did our share and made it real easy for you!" The man spat.

"Funny, I don't remember making any deals with anyone."

"Don't be ridiculous. That thing killed your parents, your godfather and a quarter of all the magicals in England! The light side has tried to off him for years!"

"Dumbledore has tried. The sheep in the wizarding world don't usually do a thing," Harry commented and would've started inspecting his nails if that wouldn't have reminded him so much of Malfoy junior.

The second cape crusader stepped onwards. "Alright! That kid behind you IS the Dark Lord. You get it? We're not joking!"

Harry squeezed Tom's hand when the boy tried to pull it off. Harry felt how Tom hid more behind his legs.

"And how have you managed this? No offence but you Death Eaters succeeding in anything… well, the likelihood is politely put, quite small."

The third man stopped forward as well. "We can always change our minds if you don't have the balls, Potter!"

The first one shushed the other angrily and then turned to speak, "The Dark Lord has not given us what he promised. And this… this isn't working, alright! It's getting dangerous. The risks to us are already as big as if we we're on the light side and we're not getting anywhere. Mudbloods are flooding into our world!"

The third idiot laughed. "Yeah, Hey Potter, The Dark Lord was not so tough. It needed to eat and sleep. Even if ´e was paranoid as ´ell, it gave us no trouble to make him pass out. We tried to get rid of it with this one ritual that Mitchell found but it just got younger and younger until it was like this!"

The leader hit the idiot around. "Idiot!"

Harry grinned, he didn't care how much like Malfoy he looked right now. This was getting entertaining.

"Where an earth did you get the idea that I would actually "deal" with the kid? If you haven't noticed, I really haven't been trying to kill your former boss before. Merely just tried to stay away from him and live."

The leader flipped and tried to come over the fence but the air fluctuated a second before a golden lightning struck him.

Harry peeked over the fence. "How about that, my mum "the mudblood" was pretty darn good with these spells, wasn't she."

The leader groaned and stumbled up. He pointed his wand at Harry. "You mother, who was killed by the Dark Lord. Don't forget that. And who has been trying to kill you, several times. Who threatens the rest of your family in that house! Are you really going to let the Dark Lord inside a house filled with muggles? That bastard is a major pain even in that age!" The man was panting as if he had ran for a few miles. "Let's go," he pointed his comrades.

"But what if…" the third idiot tried to stall but the second one pushed him onwards.

The leader turned around once more. "Deal with it or you're gonna be sorry when more of your friends die!"

Harry waited until the last Death Eater had popped away and turned to the kid. "Soo, that happened."

-ooooo-

Where I was going with this… Harry/Tom slash. Tom would actually be growing real fast and Harry would be implemented in his earliest memories. Harry decides to keep the future Dark Lord safe which isn't easy with renegade Death Eaters after him and the Order not really understanding. Tom sorta grows to admire Harry but his character changes as he grows up, as in couple of years or more in a week. It would only take the summer a little bit of the fall for him to reach his right age and memories from his real past life would come and mix with this one.

The Order really do not like this situation but Harry finds out that the wards around Privet Drive also protect against them. Any with harmful intent. Dumbledore is alive and as annoyingly omniscient as always. Eventually Harry and Tom flee Privet Drive, have a little adventure but eventually they are forced apart. As Harry has sacrificed himself for Tom while Privet Drive, Tom now sacrifices himself for Harry. I guess I was thinking there would be a battle where both Death Eaters, traitors and not plus nosy Order members appear and Tom hides Harry and flees himself. Successfully of course. He is Tom Riddle after all. While they are apart, Tom continues to age but his thoughts revolve around Harry.

Then the ministry stooges learn of this and Harry has to flee, unsure of who he could trust. Of course he would have some steadfast friends. Snape eventually betrays him and Harry ends up back in the Order headquarters. Harry misses Tom, Tom is getting obsessed and there you have it. I didn't quite get far enough to solve this.


	2. Chapter 2 How It Might've Gone

**Second summary:** Voldemort is banished, Dumbledore is surprisingly alive and wanting to oversee Harry's life again. Unfortunately, Harry has grown up. Granger!bashing as well as Dumbledore. This ended up being a really short one, so I'll just update it right after the first.

 **Ch2. How it might've gone**

"Hello Harry, do come in," Dumbledore stated, sitting on the other side of a table in the Grimmault place library.

"Headmaster," Harry nodded, looked around and then walked to stand next to the window nearby. He leaned against the windowsill. "What's this about?"

Dumbledore seemed to sigh and close a book in front of him. Then he turned slowly sideways in order to look at Harry more. His eyes were crinkled.

"I've grown very fond of you Harry, in the years we've known each other. We've had ups and downs but I had hoped you would've come to trust me as I have trusted you. Recently I've noticed and heard that you have changed, my boy. I just wanted to have a chat with you to see if everything is alright?"

Harry thought Dumbledore looked a bit like a cow with his wet eyes. It was disturbing.

"-Ah." Was all he bothered to answer. He knew very well where this interrogation was coming from. Frankly it was time for him to have this conversation out of the way. He knew Dumbledore couldn't help but stick his nose into his life once again.

Dumbledore was trying to look both puzzled and disappointed at the same time. It was not an expression good for a man as old as him.

"Harry, I must say I am worried. Worried that while you are growing up, you are aiming at goals not necessarily good for you."

"And what do you know about my goals?" Harry raised a skeptical eyebrow.

"What we do speak louder than words, my boy."

Harry was getting ticked off with all the fakery. My boy indeed. Dumbledore's puppet more likely.

"Take your friends for example. I've noticed that you have grown distant with them. They have been your friends through thick and thin. For years you have shared your life and pulled through some amazing adventures. You fought together as brothers in arms. Molly seems to regard you as her 8th child!" Dumbledore already sounded pleading.

"That says nothing from my goals in my life, headmaster. My goal certainly isn't being friendless." Harry shifted to a more comfortable position and took a deep breath. He knew he sounded exasperated but he was simply fortifying his occlumency barriers.

"I did not mean that, my boy. It was just an example of a change not altogether welcome," Dumbledore straightened. "Ms. Granger sounded worried for you this morning…"

"So this is about her. I see," Harry interrupted the old man.

Dumbledore didn't bother to deny it, but marched onwards. "She is one of your oldest friends and now you are pushing her away."

"She said I was pushing her away? Really?"

"Not so directly no, but one couldn't help but see it when she unburdened herself and her worries. Worries that are valid, if I may say so."

Harry tisked. "Really headmaster, you would raise this issue after only hearing her side of things?" He shook his head and continued without giving the old man time to start. "I have some idea what she has been complaining about. She certainly has been complaining to everybody, hasn't she. As if that would make her opinions have more weight or make them right. The sad fact is, headmaster, that she is too immature. She is throwing a tantrum in the ways she knows how. That won't make her seem to me any less pitiful."

"But Harry, surely…"

Harry held up a hand. "You began this conversation so let me finish it. Firstly, about Granger. I have grown up. In the last year I have learnt that I have more duties than the average wizard. I visited my family vault, read my grandfather's diary and talked with the goblins. I am a lord of an ancient house and that means I have responsibilities. Responsibilities that I, unlike my father, decided to take up and honor. That means I had to do a lot of thinking and organizing, I had to take stock of my life and I found it lacking. I couldn't afford to just skate by and let others do the thinking for me," Harry looked at the old headmaster and stood up from leaning against the wall.

"She was interested in boys, Ron in particular, whole last year. Her marks came down and now she is trying to overcompensate by trying to control everything. I have been more than patient with her but my family finances have nothing to do with her. My position and political views have nothing to do with her. She certainly isn't allowed to say what I should do with my money. She is free to earn her own wealth but with her ideas, I am not holding my breath. She can also apply to any ministry position on her own merits, she is not allowed to expect me to change my views and back her ideas up, especially without discussing things with me."

Harry then reached a pocket inside his robes and took out a small letter. "This was her latest idea, after which I was forced to have a stern talking to with her. She had mailed a letter co-signed by me to a ministry department head and shamelessly said I would back her up in this position. A position that was not open nor is she in my opinion anyway qualified to have. I have also thrice caught her at my trunk taking things without any permission, once she was reading a personal letter and twice I have had to have Kreacher search for things missing and they've been found in her possession. I also pointed out to her that thievery is not acceptable. She of course has her own opinions on everything, her arguments seem juvenile and she actually stomped the ground the other day when she didn't get what she wanted. Summarized, she has been rude, pushy, caught lying many times and that is only the tip of the iceberg. This is all leaving out her actions and behavior in the last year. She has shown herself to be petty," Harry lifted a fingers to count. "Nosy, childish, pushy, manipulative… If this is her grown up then I don't want to count her as a friend no more. I do not have time anymore for the likes of her anymore."

"Surely Harry she was justified in thinking you would support her when she looks for a career of her choice," Dumbledore looked at him pleadingly and Harry wanted to hit his head at the wall. "You will see that supportive friends are worth more than gold when you grow older." Dumbledore's smile was leery.

"I don't see you flocked with your school friends, headmaster." Harry pointed out, irritated. "Maybe it's useless talking to you." Harry sighed. "Well, I didn't see what right you had to critisize my views in the first place. You are my headmaster and this is my last year. After the book about your history came out, your sermon about morals is leaking, badly. Next year we will hardly see each other, except in the Wizengamot meetings."

"You are thinking of reclaiming your family seat?" Dumbledore asked surprised.

"Reclaiming is a wrong word. I'm claiming it. I already have actually. As well as the Black seat and the Peverell seat. They have always been ours, mine. I just have not known I had them."

"But your votes…"

"Yes, I heard it will create a small problem, seeing they have been used as a deciding votes on some laws and matters when I haven't ever had appointed legal guardian and all. The Wizengamot secretarial section is looking into the matter as we speak and I think they said they'd make a decision on it by the twelfth."

"Today is the fourteenth…"

"Oh, would you look at that. Maybe the weekend has postponed them from publishing their decision," Harry pondered, enjoying Dumbledore's expression. He had been far too forgiving, far too naïve. It was amazing what having a leech pulled out of your head did to your thinking capacity.

-oooo-

Obviously this was inspired by all the independent!Harry stories around. I just wanted to do it with a really adult like twist with slytherin!Harry.


	3. Chapter 3 How About That

**Third summary:** This can maybe be seen as a prequel to the second chapter. Maybe. No pairings here but continuing the line that not all of Harry's friends are really his friends. And Harry discovering a new skill. Situated in his fourth year and the tournament.

 **Ch. 3 How About That**

Harry had been having a headache for a while now. He almost wanted to believe he had some seer talents and the ache was a warning throb of his participation in this ridiculous tournament. But that was just wishful thinking. He wasn't a seer and there was nothing he could do about being forced to participate in this ridiculous tournament. While being mocked and hated by the whole magical world, it seemed. No one was willing to help him not to die. The Gryffindors still stupidly thought him above their help or in Ron's case, a weasel and a liar. He couldn't really understand it. First his housemates had thrown a party. By the next afternoon, he had become a pariah. The rest of the school just disliked him for taking Cedric's thunder or embarrassing Hogwarts or something equally preposterous. Teachers were the same. Dumbledore was avoiding him. Hermione talked to him but it felt like she was also miffed about one or another thing and just nagged.

His headache only got worse.

"Madam Pomphrey?" Harry called into the empty infirmary.

The matron bustled out of her office and frowned when she saw him. "Alright Potter," she sighed and pointed to a bed. "What is it this time? Someone hexed you? Prank gone wrong? The students hounding you..."

Harry stared at her dumbly. Why would she immediately think that.

"No! No one has hexed me. I just have a headache that doesn't go away. It's been going on for a week now." Harry rubbed his neck while twisting his head. Nothing seemed to work.

Pomphrey clucked and spun her wand around his head. "Nothing seems to be wrong. Probably just tension. You should've left this tournament business alone."

Harry watched her bustle away incredulous. The nurse was obviously dismissing him. She was giving off a very indifferent and annoyed aura.

"Should've left well enough alone... Incompetent... Greedy little boy. Why put his name down at all," he heard her mutter.

"Excuse me!" Harry raised his voice. She had no right to blame him.

"What?" The nurse turned, sounding irritated.

"I didn't put my name in the goblet," Harry grunted out.

Pomphrey raised her eyebrows. "I didn't say you did."

Harry wanted to gape but his head throbbed again. "Can I just have the headache draught, please?"

"You should just go and sleep it off," Pomphrey replied.

Harry stared at her incredulously. Always before she practically forced everyone to drink more potions just to be sure and now that he was actually in pain, she wasn't giving him any help.

"What? I would sleep it off if I could. That's why I am in here!" Harry was getting angry. For the whole week his head had been killing him, most students were shunning him or like the Hufflepuffs, actually knocking into him while muttering. Now, he wasn't getting help with even a headache. He glared at the nurse.

"just desserts I say. Just desserts. Stop staring at me like that!" She sounded nervous.

Harry heard Pomphrey say it loud and clear, yet her mouth hadn't opened. Stunned by that, Harry jumped off the bed. He was really on the edge of a mental breakdown. That was why his head was hurting. He was getting all loony.

"Have it your way then. Always figured you just wanted to make us patients suffer. A nurse, right," Harry huffed and almost ran outside. He didn't dare and look at her anymore.

Just by the door there seemed to be a new patch of cold medicines and headache relievers. Harry glanced back and Pomphrey had not come after him, so he snagged two vials of the latter and rushed outside. Immediately he drank one vial and as the throbbing pain ebbed away, he tried to make sense of what just happened. Not Pomphrey's attitude but how could he hear her speak without her opening her mouth. Had he just imagined it all?

-o-

It happened again! He had no headache this time. He did not have even a scratch on him. Two second year Hufflepuff girls walked towards him and they were very annoying. And it took a lot from him to say that. Lavender Brown was in his year after all. But they squealed and talked about outrageously dirty things about Cedric. They were twelve! How did they even know about stuff like that?!

But once the girls noticed him, he realized they were not talking, just walking side by side, each on their own. And once they noticed him, their "talking" turned real ugly. Apparently he was a useless piece of cow dung who looked like a dung beetle and who should've been kicked out of the school.

Yet their mouths didn't move.

Harry rushed to the library. There was no one else he could ask. Maybe Sirius. Harry would send him a vague letter if he couldn't find anything. This sounded just as weird as his parseltongue ability. Only now he knew not to advertise it. To anyone. No one seemed to deserve his trust anymore.

The library turned out to be a bust.

The next few days, his new skill seemed to hone itself more and more and bring with it all kinds of new of headaches. He liked least the blinding one just behind his eyes that made even his hair hurt. It was a good thing that he didn't need to attend all the classes and he used that priviledge often. Despite it being the only thing Hermione was capable of talking about anymore. Nag. Nag. Which brought about his next heartache, not only did he have to listen to Ron mutter bad things about him, skipping classes brought out a very nasty side in Hermione.

-o-

"You really shouldn't skip any classes today, Harry. You will need all the skills in this tournament! You can't even do the summoning charm. Even Seamus managed it! You didn't." 'And that you entered the tournament without even consulting me and you were so stupid. Now I have to listen everyone complaining...'

Harry closed his eyes. He didn't care what she said aloud and what she thought. She always berated him, he always did everything wrong, he was always the worst type of person.

"Gimme a break Hermione. I'm dealing with it," Harry groaned.

She huffed. 'Dealing with it. You aren't dealing with anything. How about getting to classes and not hiding out. How about not making ME take messages to all the teachers. How about apologizing to Ron, how about making your homework for once. You're an idiot and expect me to do everything!' Aloud she said,"We have to study more Harry. You know the first task is only few weeks away.

Had she always been so selfish and self-servant. Everything she thought about was only about her. Her trouble, her gain, her bother.

As she was pretty much the only one to hang around him these days, he couldn't help but wonder if she had always thought of him like this. Even in the good times. She really was a nagger. How could she think such awful things and then smile and say something different.

He could see the dark humor in this, the friendless orphan, having picked two of the worst kind of people to be his first friends. Ron was revealing his nasty side too. He was always thinking of pranking Harry in a way he would hurt. Ron never actually did it but wanting him to literally break a leg, push him down the stairs, poison him, made Harry feel ill. Not to mention things that Ron actually did. He freely sneaked into his brothers rooms and 'borrowed' few knuts. He also happily went through Harry's stuff and hastily copied Dean's essays only to have Hermione read and correct them. Ron also told numerous lies about people behind their backs. Harry being his favorite subject.

Harry felt so confused, torn and disgusted with these people. How could they be so spiteful? They weren't stupid, they were just mean.

-ooooooo-

This one I personally really liked. I think it has potential, maybe. I figured this would only get worse until the first task, but by then Harry has figured out he is hearing everyone's thoughts. Sirius replies and the closest thing to this is legilimency. Sirius figures it's all about his magical maturity, which isn't supposed to come yet. But is coming, very fast and powerfully at that.

After the task is over, Harry simply can't forgive them anymore. Especially when their thoughts remain as they are. He struggles to gain control over his new skill and his participation in this tournament. The headaches are not helping. Finally during the second task, deep down in the lake when he is about to drown, he realizes something… someone is inside his head. Enter the shadowed soul of a grown Voldemort. That has been effected by the years he has remained inside Harry's head. The horcrux is weak but useful, sort of kind, calculating but not more malevolent than his 'real' friends.

Harry is not so alone anymore with Voldemort always along. There are some bumps in the way. Harry makes new friends and is not settling anymore. He finds good people and rotten people.

In the graveyard the horcrux Voldemort makes both Harry and the other Voldemort realize the dangers of the situation. Voldemort, neither of them, wants Harry to return but he refuses to stay.

After the tournament, Harry is sent to St Mungos for his injuries. He refuses to stay at the school's hospital. His world is turned upside down by Lucius Malfoy sweeping in and organizing a guard. Cedric's death is blamed on Karkaroff, the man having conveniently disappeared. The public story is that he went mad because his own champion didn't win. Eventually Harry is returned to Privet Drive where Voldemort is waiting.

I was unsure about the Voldemort angle. Might be left off but if it's there, things will stay interesting. I was aiming for a really neutral!Harry. Not taking either side and sidestepping everyone. It isn't hard when he can hear their thoughts.


	4. Chapter 4 Tourist Is As Tourist Does

**Fourth summary:** HP/Lotr crossover, no pairings. Harry in Middle Earth as a master of death and sort of like a tourist. Inspired by Terry Pratchett. Harry is just not as inept as Rincewind.

 **Ch. 4 Tourist Is As A Tourist Does**

It was perfectly understandable, at least that was what Pippin thought. They had left Rivendell ten long days ago. Ten days without decent meals or a good bed. Ten days of walking up the hill and down the hill, over the rocks and across freezing small streams. He was hungry and sure that his stomach had twisted in knots by the lack of right eating schedule. His feet were hurting, his knees were hurting, his back was hurting and their pace just quickened. So, it was no wonder he thought he was just hallucinating when he saw a young man sitting on a rocking chair by the road in the middle of nowhere. There really was no need for Gandalf to complain of why Pippin hadn't said anything to them. Yes, he was in the lead and yes, the others were hunting a boar for dinner. There was no reason at all to give him a whole lecture and a rant about not thinking straight. Hobbit heads needed more meals to work.

But there it was, the young man in the chair by the road, napping. Or at least Pippin hoped he was napping and not – you know – dead. Because whatever had killed the boy, would probably still be around. The boy looked too intact for anything else. Certainly too young to have died of old age.

Gandalf harrumphed while Sam, who was behind Gandalf, pushed Frodo all the way behind him. Pippin thought it overcautious. They had a wizard with them, even though the elf and dwarf were missing. Not that Boromir wasn't good with his sword and Aragorn was certainly no slouch either. It was just that Legolas was an elf and Gimli had wickedly sharp axe. But Sam had always been like that. Pippin had always thought the old Bilbo Baggins was fast to spank the other kids, and never his own nephew. Sam had certainly gotten his share for dragging Frodo along and obviously it had gone overboard. Sam was now like a mother hen. Brainwashed by the sneaky old Bilbo.

Pippin looked at Gandalf. "Should we... erm... do something?"

Gandalf just stroked his really long beard and Sam rolled his eyes.

"Well, we can't dally here all day, can't we!" Pippin muttered. "I mean it is a bit queer for him to drag his chair all the way out here. Old grams Longtoe had his chair outside but it was just outside the door and on the bricks. There's no house near by here. But it's still just a chair. Anyone might want to carry something like that with them. I mean I would like a chair now and then."

Pippin glanced at Gandalf again, if a ring wasn't just a ring then maybe a chair wasn't just a chair. What would he know.

Gandalf coughed but then started walking onwards. "I guess you are right little hobbit, this time. A chair is just a chair. I was more worried of the person sitting on it, but we can not dally all day."

When they got close enough, it was clear the young man was just asleep. Pippin wanted to wake him for surely the position he was in would cause a crick in the neck.

"He's just sleeping," Sam stated the obvious. "How can he be sleeping?"

"Rocking chair is much better to sleep in than an armchair," Pippin told his opinion. After all the rocking made one sleepy and it tilted nicely once you really wanted to close your eyes.

"I didn' mean that!" Sam raised his voice which woke the young man in the chair. Pippin wasn't sure how old the young man or boy was. He really hadn't been around men enough. He was pretty sure this was more of a boy than a man.

The boy blinked his eyes several times and then yawned. To Pippin he didn't look that threatening. Even though his garments were a bit odd. Very deep black cloak and funny shoes.

"Good morning young man," Gandalf greeted. Sam wasn't going to say anything and Frodo was still behind them all. Pippin felt a bit awkward but to be polite he also said, "morning."

"Mo-o-rning," the young man answered back and stretched. "This is a really slow road. I thought no one would come by."

"Yes. The traditional Greenway to south is a bit further towards the coast," Gandalf leaned on his staff. "But even that is rarely travelled these days. You were lucky we were on our way here."

The man stood up, his head way above the hobbits but clearly shorter than the Grey Wizard. "Where are you on your way, if I might ask?"

"Myself and my companions are heading south towards Rohan," Gandalf told in a roundabout way of his. "And where is your road taking you?"

-ooooo-

Short, I know. I think I was wanting a Harry who would not really want to go with the fellowship but they would continue to cross roads. After all, Harry is just a tourist here. Just sightseeing. He has already dealt with his Dark Lord. And if the white forests of Lorien and the dark mountains in the south happen to be on his tourist pamphlet... Master of Death can certainly deal with some orcs and nosy elves. And Pippin will never quite manage to see the pamphlet, although the name of the company producing it seems to change in the back cover each time he manages a sneak peek.


	5. Chapter 5 Master of Death

**Fifth summary:** This takes place at the beginning of Harry's fifth year when the Dementors attack. They actually manage to give Harry the kiss. Goodbye horcrux. Harry wakes up to Mrs Figg's shouting and gets up a bit woozy. Together they drag Dudley home and things continue pretty much canon until the broom ride to Grimmault place. Harry has been having the strangest sense of dejavu and then he dies again! MoD!Harry.

 **Ch. 5 Master of Death Harry**

Harry sat on his bed and stared at his hands. They were trembling a bit but he thought that was understandable. He was pretty sure that half an hour ago he had been kissed by a Dementor.

He was supposed to be a soulless husk yet here he was, mostly unharmed and Listening to his Aunt and Uncle ranting downstairs about how no good nothing he was. He also wanted to go to the loo and use a galleon of mouthwash. Dementor kiss was exactly as advertised. Foul.

Dudley had been a prick as usual and when the Dementors were upon them, his cousin had panicked. Using his considerable mass, Dudley had flattened him before high tailing it. Not that his cousin had gotten far. The second Dementor had caught him but been unable to kiss him because Dudley had fallen on his face and passed out. No Dementor was built to turn his cousin over.

Harry on the other hand had been flattened to the ground, dazed from having his air punched out and by how badly smarting the back of his head still felt, he had probably hit it as well. Not that he needed any excuse, but he liked to think he would've been able to do something when the Dementor revealed its face and started kissing him!

"Eurgh!" Harry desperately brushed his lips with his sleeve. "That was my first kiss! Can this get any more pathetic."

Was it wrong to be more upset about that than actually surviving or being attacked in the first place.

"I want to be obliviated," Harry moaned as he remembered the kiss. It was horrifying. He couldn't help but remember. There was hardly anything to call a face, just a gaping black maw. As it had descended on him, Harry remembered he had been thinking about how his Boggart would show a Dementor wearing ugly ass make-up for the rest of this life. At the time he had expected that to be around 30 seconds. He remembered the sensation of a pull and something in him had given in. Then suddenly the Dementor was gone and Mrs. Figg was screeching about wands and magic.

"That bloody squib!"

All these years. All. These. Years. That crazy cat lady had known. She had stood by and watched all the things the Dursleys did. All the chores outside, the second hand clothes, being left behind every single vacation and she had just watched and reported. Hadn't lifted a finger to help him. Bloody bitch!

Harry was not feeling warm feelings towards her or any of the Order members. They too had been watching all this summer long apparently. All the frustrating days when he had scavenged for news, all hot summer days when the sun had burnt his back while gardening, all the time his Uncle had shouted at him outside.

"Those Fuckers!" Harry threw himself on his bed and hit the mattress with his fists. His blood was boiling. "They could've helped, they could've talked to me at least! They must've seen how much I tried to get any news about what was happening!"

Oddly enough this feeling of betrayal felt familiar. It was like dèjá vu.

He looked at the crumbled letters next to him. Fat load of good any of them were. And Dumbledore sending that howler - Wait, how did he know that? Downstairs he had wondered who would send his Aunt a howler like that and it didn't even sound like Dumbledore. But Harry knew it was the man now.

"Remember my last," Harry snorted. The last time as far as he knew Dumbledore had anything to do with his aunt had been by the letter when he had been left outside the door in a basket.

"Hoot," Hedwig seemed to agree with him.

Briefly Harry contemplated on sending letters to his friends but he had done that all summer long. Obviously they put other things before their "friendship" so he got up to write to the last one he had any hope for, Sirius.

 _You've heard by now, no doubt about it that Dementors visited me. The Ministry is demanding a hearing for underage magic use, which I did not do. Get me out of here or I'll leave on my own and you won't be invited to come along!_

 _Your only godson,_

 _Harry_

"You up to little flying, girl?" Harry asked Hedwig and obediently she flew onto his desk. "Give this to Sirius, preferably when he is alone."

He knew it was a low-ball, reminding Sirius of Azkaban and his duties as a godfather but the man was the last chance of him knowing what the hell was going on. Watching as Hedwig flew away, Harry contemplated the day some more.

How could he be so sure Ron and Hermione wouldn't lift a finger to help him? How could he know about Dumbledore? He really felt he knew. As in knew. How things would turn out. It was only that he didn't quite remember. For instance he was sure he ought to be much more worried about the Ministry warning but he couldn't care less. He was sure they would try and backstab him yet it would turn out alright.

"I am not turning into another Trelawney," Harry shuddered. But he had always trusted his time he would too, no matter how off-putting the idea of divination felt.

Despite suddenly gaining confidence of future events, he was not that worried about it. What really worried him, Harry shuddered again, was that Kiss. Something had gone wrong but he felt that somehow it had gone right instead. As if this was a good thing. Which it was of course, he liked to be alive, but there was something more. If only he could know what.

Despite his revulsion, he tried to once more think closer on what happened. The maw. The pulling. The pull… It was hazy.

"Something gave in? I felt it, something left me. What was it?" Harry tapped his head around but nothing was physically missing.

 _´Voldemort left something in you…´_ an old voice whispered into his ear.

"What did Dumbledore mean by that?" All those years ago the old man had been less cryptic than he wanted.

Harry bit his lip. He was on the verge of figuring this out.

"If I had something of Voldemort and… Could I have lost that?"

He remembered the visions of last year. Nagini, that old dead Riddle house caretaker, Wormtail.

"Voldemort left something in me which caused the visions? I lost something yet I am still here. Could he have…" Harry swallowed, never before had he even wanted to think more on his connection with Voldemort.

"Could he really have left something concrete enough in me for it to be taken away?"

If so, he was happy to have it gone.

Yes, he was sure this was it. He could almost remember that this even had a name. Horus – Hocus pocus – Horcrux!

"Horcrux."

Harry had no idea what it was or how could he know something like this but he was dead sure he had it right. And that Dumbledore knew! All the little things, being happy his blood had been used to raise the bastard last year, the diary the old man wanted so badly to keep to himself after his second year, his scar that had not healed in years yet Dumbledore felt it was just fine.

"I… I…," Harry was so angry and betrayed that he didn't know what to do, didn't know what to think or what to say anymore. It was all tearing him to shreds inside.

"AAAARGH!" He shouted, screamed at anything and everything in his room. Then he took his pillow, threw it hard on his bed and started hitting it.

It must've been minutes later, when he was beginning to feel the stress in his arms that he stopped. It wasn't nearly enough but at least it hurt a little less.

"How didn't I realize this earlier?" His mostly empty room didn't have the answer, neither did Harry. But one thing he did know. It was about time to get the hell out of Privet Drive. He had a godfather to meet, Diagon Alley to visit, Ministry to screw and a world to see. It seemed like an awfully good idea not to be in Hogwarts this year and if he was right, there was a way to do that.

He lunged to his trunk and began shuffling through the books there. They had been given a pamphlet at the end of the school year to prepare them for the O. . Hermione had read it three times and then backwards and couldn't shut up about it during their train ride back to London.

"Yes!" Harry drew out a thin yellow folded paper. "O. and why they form the base of your studies," read on the cover. He had skimmed it through in the train and there was one important point, close to the end.

"Aha!" There it was. "The Ordinary Wizarding Level Examinations. Commonly called the O. . Study hard and you will be rewarded. Your future awaits…" Basically it was a lot of drivel praising the Ministry and the traditions. You had to use the right color regulation form ink and the parchment was soaked in anti-cheating solution. But the most interesting part was at the end. In small print.

"Some careers require certain subjects to be taken at N.E.W.T –level. Your O.W.L results either guarantee a place for you in these studies or direct you to a more suitable area of expertise on a lower level of achievement. Minimum requirement for wand right is one O.W.L in a core subject…"

Harry was beginning to form a plan. "So all I need is one passing O.W.L and I have basically graduated Hogwarts. How about that?"

He dove back into the pamphlet.

"Timetable… timetable… Where was it… Ah! The O. are managed by the Wizarding Examinations Authority. Most schools organize a testing session at the end of each year and students are automatically signed to the exams. For smaller institutions, Hedge-schools and home schooled children or those wishing to retake their O. the WEA organizes a testing three times a year. In January, May and August. There is a minimum age requirement of fifteen years."

The cogs turning in Harry's head were scrambling loudly. He had an idea and now he had a plan.

-o-

Unfortunately before Harry could even sent the letter and sign-up to the August testing, seeing as Hedwig had not returned, his midnight escort arrived. Then again Harry had known they would. Just like he had known to avoid the peas Dudley threw at him at lunch the day before and duck the water spray when Petunia had forgotten she had activated the kitchen hand faucet.

It didn't stop there. Premonitions were not the only weird things happening to him. Doors opened before he could grab the handle, his shirt looked wrinkled but once he had it on, it looked like it had been recently ironed. Harry was a bit confused as it felt like his magic was over reacting but as no new warnings had arrived from the Ministry, he figured what the hell. Go with the flow. He had always liked magic, it was good to see magic liked him back.

The night was blissfully quiet, the Dursleys driving to get their pretty lawn trophy. Harry had ample time to pack his trunk and watch some telly before the house was broken into. At eight o'clock bunch of Order members filled the house through the locked backdoor, he didn't recognize half of them.

Harry was ready to have some fun and Mad Eye Moody just managed to see him with his weird eye and duck but the stuffy looking woman behind him didn't and the frying pan made her wheeze and double up as it smacked her in her middle. Not even Moody was fast enough to duck the backwards swing aiming at his wand hand. Moody's wand flew right out of the kitchen and Harry twirled the pan.

"Now who wants some more," he raised the pan again, ready to smack them some more. They were all clumped together without any room to move. "You burglars better not go for your wands!"

"Harry! It's me, Remus," the wolf shouted panicked. "We've come to take you away."

"As if!" Harry answered back and smacked the pan to the wall right next a short man who had obviously tried to get his wand out. "Just try it!" Harry threatened him.

"You lot just broke into my house. That was a big mistake. I ain't going nowhere with your say so!"

"Your patronus is a stag and I had a Grindylow in a tank in my class room when I first met you at the school. I helped you with the Dementor in the train before that! Snuffles was with me this summer," Remus talked so fast he was mumbling, just throwing things only he should know out there.

Harry leaned against the wall and crossed his arms. He looked at them shrewdly.

"I guess it could be you then. I'm not so sure about Moody. Wouldn't be the first time he is used for polyjuice."

The grizzly man grinned. "That's the way! A little heavy on the hardware but he's got it right!"

Harry thought the man was at least half-insane.

"That's so not okay Mad-Eye. He hit poor Dorcas with a frying pan!" A violet-haired woman whined.

"Hasn't you mum ever hit you then? My aunt has hit me plenty. It doesn't hurt that much," Harry pointed at the woman still bend double. The violet haired woman gaped at him.

"Erhm," Remus cleared his voice and took a step forward. "How are you, Harry?"

"Peachy. Could be better, could be worse."

Harry looked at the people surrounding Moody, everyone was staring at him.

"Surprising number of people volunteered to come and escort you," Lupin said with his mouth twitching.

"We're your guard, lad," Moody stated and then pointed each one and said their name. "Tonks – Diggle – Shacklebolt – Doge – Vance – Dorcas that you hit – Jones - Mackey and of course you already know Lupin."

Harry turned to Remus. "So what's this taking me away thing about? I've been sitting here pretty comfy all summer. No ones talking to me, I am not talking to them, Dementors visit occasionally, you know, the normal stuff."

"Eep," Vance squealed hearing the word Dementor and dropped the china cup she was holding. One of the good ones aunt Petunia only put out during Sundays for special guests.

"Right professional knights then," Harry muttered.

Remus obviously heard it. "Yes well."

It took them an age to get through the small talk. Harry kept on asking questions and commenting on things until he grew bored. By that time one of the "guard" had decided to snack from the fridge, Moody was getting really antsy and Remus looked a bit depressed. Harry hadn't had this much fun in weeks. Finally they were all outside with brooms on their hands, Harry's trunk minimized in someone´s pocket.

"Alright you lot, we´re way behind schedule. Get on your brooms and head towards south in the formation we agreed upon!" Moody shouted and began to lead the fleet.

"South?" Harry mouthed at Remus over the wind. "Where are we going?"

"To the Order headquarters," Remus shouted.

"But south? Are we heading to France?"

"Stop shouting our destination to all and sundry," Moody suddenly appeared behind Remus. "Of course we´re not taking the straight route. We must first loose any followers!"

Harry looked around. There was only night sky everywhere, few muggle cars way below them. "Who?"

"You never know. Now fly!" Moody shouted and spurted ahead of them.

Harry looked at Remus incredulously. The wolf just shrugged back.

They had been flying an hour at least and Harry was starting to get frostbites. The air up at the higher altitude was nippy. To warm up he tried out some of the more tame quidditch rolls.

"Oi you, stop that!" The thin wizard Moody had introduced as Mackey ordered. It was his turn to fly next to Harry.

"Why?"

"This is not a Ministry sanctioned fly by. The muggles could spot us any minute. You should do as you are told!" Mackey sniffed.

Harry was not surprised. This wizard had been looking at everything muggle by his nose all evening. Harry in particular. As if he was something nasty stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Mackey had walked around the Number Four like the whole place was filled with germs. He had sniffed at everything Remus said, he had loudly disagreed when the violet haired young auror was to lead the way because young women should not fly nor wear trousers. He had not spoken one word to Harry before this, only sneered. What he was doing with Dumbledore´s troop was a mystery to Harry or why the man had even accompanied them to get him.

"The Ministry has been real reasonable this summer. Lying about me and printing dirty insinuations at least three times a week in that rag they call a newspaper!" Harry snorted back. "I don't really care if there is a form to get permission for a broom fly or not."

Mackey was turning red. "What insolence! The ministry is trying to calm the people after your fear mongering and this is your attitude? You spit on them and the rules they have created for our protection!" He ranted and Harry got the feeling this was not the first time the subject had come up.

"The Ministry is just stuffing their head in the sand, the Minister in particular. He would serve us to Voldemort on a silver platter if that meant he could keep his shiny position where he can accept all the bribes he wants from the likes of Malfoy and line his pockets with gold." Harry couldn´t help but to stir the man some more. He was a ministry toady, an idiot of the highest grade. Harry had long since gone way beyond of just being annoyed by all the Ministry was doing against him. The articles this summer had simply been the last drop.

Mackey was turning purple and his nose was making a whistling noise. He was like a teapot overboiling.

"And just look at this Dementor incident. They obviously sent the Dementors after me, trying to silence me permanen –"

"Obviously not doing a good enough of work since you´re still here mouthing off! Futulio!" Mackey shouted at Harry who was too close to dodge. The yellow blast from the man´s wand hit Harry´s broom, making if falter and then plummet.

It took only a moment for Harry´s broom to make a violent spin, taking him towards the ground on a speed that was deadly if the height was not enough. There was very little for him to do except to curse the man and the rest of his so called guards. The other Order members were too far to realize there was a problem, even less to help him. His wand was still in his trunk where Lupin had wanted him to put it. He couldn't very well jump off his broom which was the only chance he had to survive. If he had to choose to fall without a broom or a broken broom, he would always choose the broom.

"Dammit," Harry cursed as his last words, seeing what an idiot he had been, when the ground met him in a hard crash.

-o-

Harry woke up to feeling his neck was cracking. It was a decidedly odd feeling. He lifted his hand to feel around his throat and gurgled in panic.

His neck! It was not there or rather it was but it was all broken. His bones must´ve shattered as he could feel sharp bones protruding all around his throat. He couldn't breath!

CRACK! The horrible noise made him want to vomit but then he could suddenly take a breath.

"Urg!" He groaned. What was going on?

Suddenly he felt different, larger and wider. It was as if he was being stretched. He had been packaged inside a small match box when he was the size of a horse, of an elephant, of a blue whale. It didn't stop. The whole Universe was filling him and surprisingly there was room enough. He could feel that there were souls abound, reapers moving few miles east, muggle souls moved through his consciousness in a never-ending stream. He suddenly knew the Moon, the Sun and the vastness of space between the stars. He looked at his hands as his neck made another loud crunching sound. He remembered who he was. He remembered everything.

"That motherfucker made me break my neck!" Harry cursed. "Fifteen years, FIFTEEN BLOODY YEARS ONLY!" His voice turned chilly and a fleet or birds was alarmed out of their sleep and took a flight in the night, away from him and his fury.

Harry´s agitated magic flared around him, healing the rest of his injuries. No healer could yet do what he was doing. There was no cure for death. Might be one day, depending on what directions he would decide to go this time.

"Fifteen bloody years," He muttered. Outwardly he looked calm but inside there was a cold inferno. He stretched his neck out and cursed some more. This was going to be a shock to this body. It always took a while to accommodate the Master of Death. It was easier the older he was when he died.

"Let´s see…" Harry began to think back on his life and compared it to the dozen others he had lived like this. "The Dursleys. Check. The Gryffindor. Check. Basilisk and Tri-wizard. Check. The Horcrux… Not there. Hmm… The Dementors. Tricky little buggers. I have to visit them soon. But first things first." He flicked his finger at his broken broom and it melted together. It didn´t look brand new but neither was it splintered to ten thousand pieces.

"Oh, this time I am gonna have some fun!" He smirked and grabbed the broom. Fleetingly he wondered if his age of dying affected him. He didn't feel like being very serious right now. He began walking out of the woods and headed towards where he could hear voices arguing.


End file.
